Soul Fire
by lotus-brody
Summary: Three months later, and Dave is still training with Balthazar and getting stronger every day. But when nightmares start to plague him, and a mysterious power is starting to take hold, he's not sure what to do. Eventual Bal/Dave, M for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hmm, this posted wonky. Take two. My first try at a Sorcerer's App fic. Dave's life is slowly crashing down around him, and an unknown power inside of him is making itself known.

Disc: I don't own. Obviously. I just get ideas and like to write them out.

Chapter One

"Magi's, or sorcerer's, are rare creatures. Even those with the potential for magic cannot always use it," said a wizened old man to his three pupils. The round stone room was lit with clean mid-morning light from high windows, showing the dust motes swirling in miniature universes. Bookshelves and diagrams lined the walls, and a particularly large one dominated the largest stretch of wall behind the old man. Seated behind three oak desks sat two boys and a girl, all in their twenties. The eldest, a boy with a fine growth of dark black stubble and unruly black hair was leaning back, spinning a blue ring in his hands, staring at the sky lights, while the other two were focused on their teacher. "The soul is the source of a magician's power. Sometimes, the soul can be taken from a Magi in the aid of a spell. A source is drained off all magic, and the shell is left behind while the taker performs a spell, usually to raise another soul from the dead."

The girl in the central desk raised her hand. "Merlin, is that not The Rising?"

Merlin shook his head. "No, my dear Veronica. The Rising can only be performed by a magician who has taken powers from beyond the veil between life, powers that no sorcerer should ever be allowed to wield. They are dangerous, and you give your heart purely to evil to be able to touch them."

The last pupil, this one the youngest with long messy hair and a faint stubble about his chin, lifted his hand slightly. "Sir?"

"Yes, Balthazar?"

"Can two Magi work together, so they won't kill anyone? Or what about recently deceased people, would it really need that much magic? A whole soul, I mean. Are there limitations, or..."

Merlin turned to look at him. Something in his eyes seemed to stare at him through the tunnels of time, far far away where Balthazar didn't think he'd ever go. Merlin seemed to age in that moment, withering before him. "That is a largely unstudied part of magic, and very dangerous. Reaching between the veil of life and death is not for humans, even Magi. People who do so go mad, or die. But yes, you can use only a piece of a soul to raise someone from death."

Balthazar tilted his head. "I suppose there aren't very many Morganian's out there who wouldn't just kill you outright."

Merlin shook his head. "I am talking of an act of love, now." Balthazar looked up, straightening in his desk. He was fooling himself if he didn't think his eyes flickered to Veronica. "I have heard of cases where a sorcerer was able to bequeath a small amount of their soul into another to pull them from the brink of death. But it is rare. Very rare. An act that one should not do foolishly, but, of course, to provide someone with a piece of yourself is an act of love so strong and self-sacrificing that it would forge between the two Magi a bond beyond anything thought possible."

"So it can only be done between two people that love each other?" asked Veronica. "Or would it be one-sided?"

Merlin smiled at her though his snowy beard. "For it to be possible the two souls in question would have to be more deeply linked than mother and child. A soul, insofar as we know, is aware enough to desire contact with another, and would only part with its vessel under dire circumstances, or to move on to the next." Merlin paused, his eyes turned from Veronica to Balthazar for a moment, and Balthazar had the feeling of years between them once more, before he looked back to his female apprentice. "Through love to save a soul from death one can give their own. Through evil to raise a soul from death they can steal another. Love is the strongest power in the world, Veronica, stronger than fire and sword, stronger than the anger of all the beings in the world."

The dark apprentice snorted, his black eyes glittering in the flickering candlelight. Veronica was beaming. Balthazar was watching her, his eyes on her heavy dark hair.

"You are dismissed for today, my apprentices," said Merlin, waving a hand at the pictures before them. "Horvath, I'd have you pay attention in our next class." The scrolls snapped up, string tied them, and they stowed themselves on the heavy oak shelves which lined the room.

Veronica stood and slung a leather bag over her shoulder. She bowed to Merlin and left the room, her long velvet dress swirling. Horvath stood quickly and followed her, calling her name as he left the room.

Balthazar got up slowly, still lost in thought.

"Something troubling you, Balthazar?" asked Merlin, fastening his leather bag.

Balthazar turned back to his master. "No. Not really. Maxim doesn't seem to believe in the power of love. Is it really that strong?"

Merlin nodded. "It is."

"Will I feel it one day?" Without Maxim, his rival and best friend, in the room he felt secure enough to ask. His mind was outside of the class, with Veronica.

Merlin chuckled and pat his apprentice on the shoulder.

"What?" asked Balthazar. "You are the greatest Seer in the known world. Have you seen anything like that for me?"

"I have Seen many things. I also know that things can change. But for you... for you there is a love in store that will make the sun seem dim."

Balthazar blinked, color rising in his cheeks. "Oh?"

"Yes. Though I expect there will be some hardships involved before you get to that point," he replied. "And things may not turn out how you expect." Merlin picked up his Encantus and set it on a shelf. "You will be a magnificent sorcerer, Balthazar. Each of you are great in their own way - Horvath is powerful and adaptive (or perhaps cunning), Veronica is kind and wise beyond her years, but you... you have something they don't. You have courage, a purity I have never seen before in another soul. The only wizard I can see to be greater than you is one who will be your apprentice. And they... well." He smiled.

Balthazar ran his hand along his chin, scratching his stubble. He wasn't yet marked with the scars of too many hard years of living. He hadn't yet felt the pain of the burden of the grimhold, the agony of bearing the one he loved and one he hated within the same vessel. He was still pure, his eyes wide and not yet knowing the evils of the world.

Merlin ruffled his hair.

"Go on now. It smells as though our housekeeper is making something mouth watering for dinner. I'm famished myself."

Balthazar bowed slightly and walked out the door, leaving his smiling mentor behind.

_Where had that come from?_

Balthazar blinked, his eyes trying to focus on what was above him. And around him. Namely the fifty or so snarling, angry hatchlings. His head was throbbing and he couldn't remember why. He felt his head and his hand came back bloody. He'd landed on a rock. Right. Angry mom.

"Balthazar!" his apprentice screamed. He was running along the mouldering ledge of the abandoned subway station, dodging bits of egg and nest, trampled and cluttered along the walkway. Dave paused to launch a bolt of plasma at a hatchling which got too close and slipped in the muck.

Balthazar jumped to his feet, focusing his shield. Mom was clinging to the roof above, her sharp black talons dug into the ceiling raining bits of old tile and mortar down on them. Her lips pulled back over yellowed fangs. He had no idea how a black dragon of her size managed to hole up down here, but she'd had a brood of about seventy, and was collecting the homeless to feed them.

"I'm okay!" he yelled back. "What should we do?"

"How should I know?"

Several hatchlings leapt for him, snarling, saliva dripping from their fangs. They bounced off of his shield, but he was knocked back into the wall. Clearing his mind he felt the current at his fingertips. He forced his palms together and concentrated. The air compressed and grew hot with plasma. He threw the ball at the nearest dragon hatchling. It yelped loud and high with its dying breath, its weak scales sizzling as it collapsed.

The mother shrieked, opening her mouth and sucking in a deep breath.

Balthazar turned and leapt at the ledge. His fingers caught onto the crumbling tile and he scrambled at the rough stone. Dave fell to his knees next to him, clasping onto his arm. He pulled him up just as the gout of flame from the dragon flashed over where Balthazar had just been, cooking and blistering some of its own children.

He'd received a tip off from a Beast Trader about the dragon. Someone must have made a mistake and accidentally let her loose from a breeding zone, and somehow she'd found her way down below New York. Barely out of adolescence she was thirty feet from snout to tail tip. Dave had nearly wet himself when he'd seen her, inky black scales and poisonous eyes roiling in the darkness.

"Jesus!" said Dave, his body shaking.

"Easy," said Balthazar. "We need something to stab it with - find something you can transform into a spear or a sword. The mother won't die from a plasma bolt - her scales are much harder than her young."

"And what will you do?"

"Distract the horde."

He leapt up, plasma crackling at his fingers. He slew another of the hatchlings, drawing the mother's attention. As he ran most of the hatchling's followed, snarling and spitting sparks as they tried to be the first for another fresh meal.

Dave was running along the ledge looking for a pipe. Balthazar knew he'd been practicing his transformation spells. He should be able to pull off something recognizable by now.

He sent a wave of fire, striking four of the creatures, turning them into twisting charcoal statues. He looked again. Dave had found a long piece of rebar. His indigo fire balled at his fists, twisting up the rebar. It got larger, sharpened. There was a burst of energy and he was holding a glittering, detailed sword.

"Good one!" Balthazar yelled over his shoulder.

A hatchling lunged for his foot. He shouted, twisted, and fell down onto the sharp debris.

_Oh no._

He turned in time to send another bolt into the face of a hatchling ready to bite his face. He repowered his shield and winced as hatchlings scratched and scrabbled on the invisible wall of air between them. Poisonous saliva dribbled down the shield, fangs and claws bit and clawed as sparks bounced off from their tiny, underpowered hiccoughs.

They squealed and snarled as he reinforced his shield with electricity. He started to worm back among the debris and egg shells. His shield was weakening. He glanced up and through the writhing, scaly bodies he could see the mother snarling, peeling her lips back for another blast of fire. His shield wouldn't withstand that, too.

Dave looked away from his sword to see the surge of hatchlings crawling over Balthazar. He felt a scream ripping from his throat as an impossible, flaring heat consumed him, coming from inside him as he leapt towards the horde. Red flame circled up his sword. He sliced through the hatchlings, hewing and hacking until he came upon his master.

There was a spark, and the massive gout of flame from the mother's jowls spewed forward. Dave turned and raised the sword, fortifying his own shield. Flame met air, consuming it, making it seem like a burning dome. Dave screamed, crouched over Balthazar, the sword and his own red fire making an impenetrable wall.

He swung the sword, slicing through the fire. The mother shrieked at him and dropped to the ground. The resultant crash knocked him down to his knees. The remaining hatchlings - very few now, curled around her legs yelping and spitting sparks.

He stood, swaying. "You're gonna have to get through me!"

The red fire stung, it was too strong, consuming him. But the pain felt good. He'd felt the pain before. It was a rush he couldn't get over.

The mother charged, snarling and screeching. Dave answered the challenge with a cry and charged towards her. He dodged its sharp swipe and rolled underneath its belly, hacking at any hatchling to come near. The dragon curled, trying to bite him as Dave thrust the sword into its soft underbelly through the ribcage at its heart.

The dragon shrieked and thrashed, tossing Dave like a ragdoll. The remaining hatchlings were crushed by their mother's death throes. Dave toppled under a blow and hit the ground hard. His rebar sword clattered away, returning to the thing it used to be. He winced as he watched the mother totter, knowing he'd be crushed when she fell.

"DAVE!"

The mother crashed down onto him, rolling over a suddenly conjured shield. Dave gasped, hidden within a mass of her inky scales and dark blood. He pointed his ring at her carcass and twisted, forcing the body over the ledge and onto the broken eggshells of her young.

He shook in the dust as Balthazar ran up behind him.

"Are you OK?"

Dave shook his head. He was covered with blood and still high off of the red fire. His whole body was twitching with the force of the adrenaline.

"That was amazing. I've never heard of someone your age killing a matured black dragon," said Balthazar, helping him up. "Do you have any magic left?"

Dave nodded. He stood, wavered, and fell into Balthazar. His teacher held him up.

"Just burn the brood and the dragon to ashes, Dave. I'll worry about getting us home."

Dave nodded again. He felt his will go through the ring, imagined the molecules vibrating hotter and hotter, until with a burst all of the dragons and the eggshells and their former meals went up in flames, smoking and twisting and charring.

There was a burst, like a fresh splash of cool water on a warm day, and Dave passed out from exertion in his lab as the last cracklings of Balthazar's teleportation spell slipped away.

~+o+~

_"I have to try."_ He dreamed of those words every time he slept. He dreamed of the sudden flaring of heat from his chest down to his hands, burning down into tendrils of fire. The red fire. That addictive, powerful fire.

"Please don't die," he said. The circle crackled around them as he focused his energy, forcing sparks of life into Balthazar. He felt his face twisting as he fell to his knees next to his master, his hands on his chest, curling over his lifeless body.

The night was so cold. His face screwed up as he tried to keep from crying, yelling and shouting at him to wake up, to come back, come back _ohgodcomeback!_

He was aware he was dreaming when the burn radiated out from his chest to his arms and flared at his hands, consuming him. Hadn't remembered screaming, but this time he did. It wasn't the outpouring of his affection and annoyances as it had been before, but something primal. Something from inside. His hand's slammed over and over into Balthazar's chest. His body had been inanimate, dead...

_... and the sound of a heartbeat broke through the haze of anguish. _

There was a flare of intense heat and pain, ripping from his chest and through his hands. That pain, every night. That sweet, sweet pain.

**If you liked it, please review. If you have an issue with non-cannon, or slash pairings, please don't bother flaming me. It won't stop me, and I won't respond to them.**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! ^^ Enjoy!

Chapter Two

_"I have to try."_

His eyes snapped open. For a moment the vision, too dark and tangible, danced. His room came into focus and he sighed. And it had felt so damn real, too. If he hadn't been aware that he was dreaming he'd think he was back and Battery Park.

Sunlight was on his face. He turned and looked at his clock. 11:03. Great. He'd missed class. _Again._

He knew that the dream was completely different from the way it had happened, but he couldn't remember the truth anymore. Just the dream. Just the yelling, the insults as he forced his magic into Balthazar, desperate. He was waking up tired, drained. Yelling in his sleep. Bennet was getting annoyed by it, but despite all of the sleep calming spells he tried there was nothing he could do.

Balthazar hadn't seem concerned at all when he brought it up.

"Dreams are stronger in people like you and I because of our magic," said Balthazar as he had read one of his books. "Most are just vivid, but sometimes dreams can be prophetic - dreams of the future. Time truly is like a river. You can do a lot to it, even if you can't make it stop flowing. Tributaries, dams, changing the flow - it's all possible with time. Sometimes when a serious event happens it causes a ripple - like throwing a stone. And that ripple will move _back down_ the river to you, before the event ever happened. And if you're relaxed and dreaming when that ripple hits you you'll see fragments of the event."

Dave had scratched his head and mulled over the answer. "But this dream isn't something that hasn't happened - it _has._"

"It can be its own kind of prophecy. What's the biggest element of the dream?"

_The fire._ He wondered if he should say anything about it. "I dunno. Never really thought about it."

"Well if you dream about it again, watch and focus and learn. All of the prophets of the world were sorcerer's and sorceresses - well, all but Nostradamus. He was a bit of a fool in my opinion - and not an ounce of magic."

And so Dave dreamed again of the fire. He started combing the Encantus for clues. He hadn't found anything about it, and he still hadn't asked Balthazar who would probably tell him in a moment. Balthazar hadn't asked him about the dream again either, and Dave hadn't brought it up. It felt too... personal.

He looked at his closed bedroom door and blinked sleep from his eyes. There was an awful lot of thumping from Bennet or Tank going on out there. A normal person would have woken up a long time ago. Groaning, he hauled himself up from his bed and fished on the ground for a pair of pants. He found some jeans, inspected and sniffed them, and pulled them on. Laundry had gotten expensive - the coins for a wash were up to nearly seven dollars and Dave didn't have a lot of spare cash. A clean-ish shirt was harder to find. He found something at the bottom of his laundry basket and was just popping his head through the collar when he fumbled into the kitchen.

Boxes. Blink. More boxes. Too many boxes, perhaps. He was used to pizza boxes, but these weren't. They were cardboard. They sat over all of the notes and the homework, the stupid wolf calendar that nearly killed him, and the dishes. He peeked in one - a conglomerate of clothes, framed pictures and awards, and an old bowling trophy.

"Bennet?" he called.

Bennet came in the room whistling and carrying another box, wearing his headphones. Another oddity. Bennet never wore headphones unless he was avoiding listening to something. He stopped grooving when he noticed Dave staring at him.

"Oh... hey man," he said, popping out his headphones and setting down the box.

"What the hell," said Dave, motioning to the mess.

"Sorry man. Charlene's a-callin'. She's got a be-au-tiful place and she wants me to help with rent."

Dave chewed his lip. "So you're dumping my ass," he said.

"Sorry. This is cheaper for me," said Bennet, not meeting his eyes. "And Charlene and I are in deep. Love, man."

_Yeah. Yeah right. More like "I'm tired of listening to you scream at the top of your lungs every night."_ Dave sighed, thinking of their newly raised rent and having to get a job. Or find another roomie, but it was so hard to find a good candidate. Not that he didn't have money coming in from scholarships and from a small trust fund that his grandparents maintained. He just didn't have _much. _Chances were now that he'd be some jerk working at a MacDonald's trying to make his way through University. A jerk trying to balance school, a job, and secret sorcerer practice while putting up some facade of a normal life.

Feeling defeated he walked to the refrigerator, sniffed the carton of milk and gave it a passing grade. After a bowl of cheerio's he'd be able to think clearer.

As he chewed, Tank sat on his foot and looked morosely up at him, a deep rumble in his snout, beseeching him for handouts. Bennet kept taking boxes out.

His ex-roommate stopped when Dave was washing his bowl and spoon.

"Dude, listen... maybe you and Becky could...?"

"No we couldn't," said Dave. "Need help?" he cut in before Bennet could ask.

Bennet nodded. "Yeah, bro. C'mon."

"Did you just use the word 'bro' un-ironically? You suck," quipped Dave, picking up a box.

With the last of the boxes moved out the apartment felt empty. Dave stared at the reduced mess as he thought about the raised cost of living lately. Just in the last two months his rent had been raised 200$ dollars, and his utilities went up. He wished Bennet would stay, but it couldn't be easy trying to live and study when someone in the next room was screaming.

Dave didn't complain about the forgotten hodgepodge of dishes, food and papers. He didn't complain much about anything. The place was a pig sty. But the primary contributor to the mess was moving out so maybe he could have people over every now and again. He picked up a garbage bag and started to clean, forgetting about his term paper and thinking more about practice with Balthazar later. If it was more combat training he wasn't going to be happy - his best hoodie had been charred by plasma bolts when he'd been unable to form a proper shield.

His cell phone vibrated. He saw the name and his mouth twitched. He dropped it back on the table and kept sweeping. He longed to try bewitching some wash cloths to wipe while he swept but if Balthazar caught him...

He shuddered.

He hopped on the bus around noon and sat down next to the usual suspects, opening a book to read on the way. He didn't have his ring on, and Balthazar would be upset over that. The way the man acted Morganian's would be crawling out of the woodwork to get at him and he'd be defenceless. Since the Battery Park, with one small exception, he hadn't been able to cast without it. He knew he had it in him. Balthazar said it was confidence issues. _Not only am I a sorcerer, I also have issues out the wazoo. Freud would have a field day with me._

His phone vibrated again. He looked at the ID. Becky, again.

He sighed and answered. "Hello?"

"Dave! I thought you'd dropped off the face of the planet," she said.

He squirmed. Outside of the odd encounter at the university he'd hardly seen her for almost a month. She was trying to be understanding about it, what with practice and finals coming up, but he knew she was getting mad. A small part of him was hoping she'd break it off with him.

"Nope. Cell phone just got lost," he said. "Something to do with an unfortunate vanishing spell and a summoned monkey."

A blatant lie, but believable. After the week long Manhattan Musical nothing was unbelievable. Spending a week randomly bursting into song with no real explanation other than that Dave had had a temper tantrum in the Merlin's Circle had a way of making normal problems a lot easier.

"Really? Sucky. Why weren't you in class today?"

He sighed. Right. His professor was going to have words with him over this. "Sorry, slept in. Haven't been sleeping too good," he said.

"Oh," she said. "Well, maybe we can get together tonight?"

Balthazar would let him. Not that he really wanted him to. But he'd backed out of it the last four times. He couldn't be a coward forever.

"Sure," he said.

"Great! There's a nice little bistro near where I live. Come get me at seven?"

"Yeah," he agreed.

After a few more minutes he hung up, wincing all the while at her gushing enthusiasm. He liked Becky. He could be good friends with her. But at some point - he wasn't sure when - he'd lost his attraction for her. After the battle in the park he'd been filled with love for her, his whole body had been vibrating with it. It had been an almost physical thing. He could feel the energy around him like a thick, moving membrane. But when they'd gotten back from their flight...

He shook his head. Didn't want to think about that.

He found Balthazar waiting for him, his research equipment already moved aside. His master was lounging on a battered brown couch he'd found for the space, reading a book with what looked like cuneiform on the cover.

"You're _late,"_ said Balthazar, not looking up from over his book.

"Slept in," he said.

_"Again?"_

"Dreams," he muttered.

Balthazar set his book down. "Did you try the spell I recommended?"

"Not yet," Dave lied. He had, but admitting even that wasn't working might get Balthazar more involved. He didn't like the thought of syncing up their dreams so he could watch him screaming over his dead body.

"Do it tonight," he ordered. "Now, levitation. You can make me levitate very well now. It's your turn. It's almost the same principle, but you'll be using your own energy to lift yourself up. Instead of focusing on the gravity between other objects and the ground, manipulate your own. Set your circle."

Dave slipped on his ring. The small dragon tightened a little around his finger and adjusted its wings. He closed his eyes to focus when he heard Balthazar clear his throat.

"Yes?"

"Why are you wearing that? Shouldn't you be able to start your own magic circle by now without it?"

Dave dropped his arms and glared at him. "You know I haven't been able to do it since Battery Park, with the one exception being when you were getting chewed on by that bugbear."

The bugbear had been terrorizing people in Queens. It hadn't been fully grown yet - only about five feet tall and pure muscle. Fully grown it would have been eight feet tall and moved on from eating rats to people.

"All the more reason to practice without it."

"I can't," he said. "Believe me, I practice every night before I go to sleep just like you tell me to."

Balthazar shook his head impatiently as he checked his watch. "Excuse me, it's time for me to check in with Veronica. Keep practicing while I'm out."

He went to the locker room for privacy, leaving Dave standing over the centre symbol on the Merlin Circle. Dave made a face at the closed door and shut his eyes again, letting his body do the rest. He found a place in his mind without the dreams, without worries about money, about fire. He felt his energy spread out from his body in an easy, practiced way. Like flexing a muscle he could feel the magic spreading out, rippling along the grooves in the ground. He knew instinctively, without opening his eyes that the magic fire in the circle would be a deep, rippling indigo. It had been since Battery Park. The more he practiced, the deeper the color.

Balthazar told him that it was his aura color. Balthazar's was green - he'd seen it enough to know. Veronica's was purple. He'd seen it before she left on the few times she'd taken over the practice sessions. He liked her as a teacher. Not that Balthazar wasn't a good teacher, but his motto was "Learn or Die." She was gentler.

As usual he started off with a simple spell. Normally he went for a vanishing spell, but this time he used a simple spell for transformation. He looked around. There was a long length of pipe on the ground. Pointing, he focused his attention on the molecules. Moving them, shifting them. Adding and removing protons and electrons and neutrons. Quantum Mechanics, baby.

_"A Prosteriori!"_ he said, and the pipe quivered, sharpened, and became a sword. The first sword he'd made had been a sharpened lump of metal, but this one was intricate.

He walked over and picked it up, twirled it, and repeated his incantation and it returned to a normal pipe. His incantation was of his own special design. Balthazar said that a lot of sorcerers had them, but not everyone bothered with them. It helped focus, for the out of practice.

He glanced at the closed doors again and wondered what they were talking about. He knew Balthazar would turn him into a frog or something if he went to listen in. He'd been so moody the past month it was like dealing with a rabid mongoose - just a touch temperamental, and liable to rip off your hand for a minor indiscretion.

He stepped back into the centre of his circle and watched the flickering flames. Indigo. Not red. It only seemed to go red when there was severe trouble. Like with the dragons or the bugbear.

He closed his eyes and went to his quiet place, let the energy flow through him, and he began to manipulate the gravitational pull at his feet.

He heard Balthazar come back in. He was practiced enough to feel the gentle prod of a tendril of magic - seeing if he was doing more than just closing his eyes and spreading his arms. There was a creak of the leather couch and a flip of a page.

"Just treat yourself like you treat chairs," he heard his master say.

_Blah._

"We've got all night, you know. I want you to hover around six feet by the time we're through."

_Great._ "Um, Becky wants to go for dinner," said Dave. Had to make a little effort.

Dave could feel the annoyance in the next pause.

"And if I say no?"

Dave didn't want to go but he got irritated anyway. He hated it when Balthazar snapped a collar around his neck and tried to rule his life. He found himself wanting to rebel.

"Just for one night. I haven't asked in awhile."

"Yes and progress has been coming in bounds," said Balthazar casually. Amused.

Dave felt his anger burst again. "It isn't that big of a deal if I go!" he snapped. "It's just levitation, and it'll take me weeks to get to the point where I can do it anyway!"

"Mmm. Maybe you should stay and practice then."

_Why am I getting so angry? I don't even want to go!_ "Excuse me! Just because _you're_ lonely at night doesn't mean I can't go and have a life!"

Dave winced when he felt the amusement in the air turn to anger. "David," said his master, "perhaps you _should_ stay in."

Balthazar had been moody all month. Veronica had left for Britain, and told Balthazar to stay behind to train Dave. Their relationship had become rocky. Balthazar was trying, but it was Veronica who was distant, unable to be with him. Two weeks after the encounter in the park she'd moved out of his apartment and into her own.

Dave sighed, trying to centre himself.

"I'm sorry, I was out of line," said Dave. "I just... ugh. I get pissed off when you set your standards too high with me. I'm hopeless."

Balthazar chuckled. "Open your eyes."

Dave did. His perspective had changed. He was staring into one of his Tesla coils. "Wha? SHIT!"

He was up about ten feet in the air. He noticed the buzzing of the air beneath him, the rippling energy, and saw his fire crackling below him. His heart jolted, his hold wavered, and the green light of his ring went out.

"GAH!" he hit the ground feet first and his body lurched. There was a snap. At first he didn't connect the sound with anything, but as he fell forward into his circle pain flared up his leg and it took all he had not to cry out.

"Damn it you stupid fool!" said Balthazar. Dave watched upside down as Balthazar walked over to him, looking more angry than proud. "You do something worthwhile and then you mess it up with a burst of idiocy!"

Dave glared at him. "Well sorry I busted my ankle! My bad! Guess I got a little surprised! Silly me!"

Balthazar sat him up. "You're lucky I can heal it."

"Can you?" he asked. He'd been thinking about the hospital, and how it was something else he wouldn't be able to afford.

"Yep. It'll hurt though."

Dave hissed in pain as Balthazar rolled up his pant leg. He was telling himself not to cry as he took off his shoe and sock. Balthazar's cool hands hurt more than they soothed when they were laid on his already purpling, swelling ankle. Like cold water on a fresh cut.

There was a peculiar sensation around his stomach as Balthazar closed his eyes. A tingling rose from his feet to his head. White fire licked around his ankle, soothing, taking away the pain. The color left, the swelling went down.

_This isn't so bad._

There was another snap, louder than the first, as his bones re-knit themselves. This time Dave did scream time as he fell back against the stone.

"Try having your femur fixed," said Balthazar unsympathetically.

Dave glared at him.

Balthazar looked away. "You can go on your date," he muttered.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks again for all the great feedback! Hopefully I'll have the next ready one a bit faster!**

Chapter Three

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An inarticulate yell echoed around the practice space. Balthazar hesitated near the locker room doors, looking down at Dave, who was sleeping off combat training on the couch. It was six, nearly time for him to go on his date, and he was fast asleep. Dreaming.

Balthazar had already tried waking him up once, but it had earned him a hard backlash with a thick, sweeping arm of hardened air. He was keeping his magic to himself now for the sake of not having to reset his nose.

He wasn't sure what to do. The ward he'd tried to cast had been enveloped in a pure, crackling sweep of power. And not far away the centre of the circle glowed with the occasional pulse of light. Each of the symbols had their own special meaning, but he couldn't quite understand why that particular symbol was reacting to the dream. Not to mention the raw power Dave was harnessing, able to react to the circle, cast spells in his sleep.

"Balthazar..."

Balthazar raised one eyebrow. From desperate screams to the terrified sound of a frightened child. He stepped forward again. Dave's ring was glowing, its color pulsing. There was a rippling of indigo around his body intermingled with red.

"Please, wake up..." Dave moaned.

Thinking about how he was inviting disaster he walked up to him again and looked down. He hadn't seen Dave this frightened since he'd been beset by Horvath's wolves.

Balthazar laid a hand on his head. He knew better than to provoke another attack by watching the dream, but reading the emotions shouldn't hurt. A tendril of magic wound itself around his wrist, tasting his aura. Amazing. Dave could detect and read him asleep. He really was Merlin's Heir.

Energy started to hum inside his body, reacting to the magic. Balthazar closed his eyes and let the emotions find him. His skin prickled. He felt trust... and fear. And something else, a low burn that started in his chest like a smouldering fire.

"Wake up, Dave," he murmured, ruffling his hair.

Dave gasped, opening his eyes. He took a few moments to focus. When he took stock of what was going on he turned a fascinating shade of red. Balthazar felt his own cheeks flushing. "Uh, um, _whyareyoudoingthat?"_

"You're not letting my hand go," said Balthazar. He could have broken the connection, but it was better that Dave did it for himself.

"Unh," he said. The tendril of magic let go of his wrist.

Balthazar rolled his eyes. "You better hurry up. Becky will be expecting you," he replied, rubbing his wrist to soothe the tingling skin.

"Um. Right," said Dave, standing up. He stumbled for the steps, the blush creeping over his neck and his ears.

Balthazar snickered as Dave tripped and fell up the steps. He touched the spot over his heart as Dave disappeared through the doors and his smile faltered, massaging the warmth.

~+o+~

Dave looked over his reflection on a store window. Casual. But not so casual as to not be dressy. But not so dressy that she thought he was _trying_ to look dressy. Damnit. Maybe casual would have been best. Didn't want to give a wrong impression. He paced back and forth a moment, frowning at himself. He made a face at a female manikin, the kind with eyes. He swore it was laughing at him.

"DAVE!"

He turned to see her waving and running over. She looked cute wrapped up in a new winter jacket and fuzzy boots. In fact she was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen, but in that same thought process all he could feel was _just friends._ Something had changed.

She flung herself into his arms and he laughed, trying to keep the nervousness out as he hugged her back. Her warm body didn't make his heart race. Her perfume didn't make his head go light. Something had really, _really_ changed.

"Hi!" he said, wondering if he was putting too much enthusiasm in it. Or not enough. _Damnit._

"Sorry, show ran late. Let's go!" she said, her smile was dazzling, and other guys on the street were staring. He tried smiling. Her hand fit in his like it always did as they walked down the street in the chilly December night, just like the way it fit in Montreal (France had been a little too far, so they had settled on the next best thing). It just didn't hold the same implications it once did, he noticed. It was platonic.

The bistro was warm and he could smell cappuccino. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. His brief nap had accomplished nothing but another nightmare. Coffee, Italian food and company might help take his mind off of it for awhile.

A waiter seated them at a booth and left a few menu's.

"Ugh, he always hits on me when I come here," she muttered, pulling off her jacket and hanging it on a peg.

Dave blinked. "Hmm?"

"What, you didn't notice him checking me out?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Oh um... sorry," he said. He flipped open his menu. "What's good?"

She sighed, looking over her own menu. "Dave, really... You've been so distant for the longest time now. Not at all like when we first started dating."

He felt his cheeks burning. Things had been so _amazing_ when they were dating before everything happened. His heart had nearly leapt up in his throat every time she so much as smiled at him.

"Sorry, it's just with practice and school and stuff I've been exhausted. Haven't been sleeping well either," he muttered.

She looked sympathetic. "Awwh. Well tonight don't think about anything about us, okay?"

_Darn._ "Okay."

They left the restaurant well fed. Dave kept up his end of the conversation as chivalrously as he could, but when he tried to ease off the night and make his escape home she took his hand and smiled at him expectant.

He leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were warm and soft. They didn't send shoots of desire through his body and send him into incoherency anymore though. He pulled back after what seemed like a proper time and she beamed at him.

"Want a cup of coffee?" she asked.

He smiled. It was the right thing to do. "Yeah."

Her apartment was clean and bright. He knew he'd like it here, if he could move in as a friend. Or if he could have moved in as a more-than-friend. She let him lounge on the couch while she fiddled with the coffee machine.

He thought about the last time he'd been here. The eagle had let them off on her balcony and they'd waltzed into the room in the early morning twilight. The feelings he'd been overpowered by in Battery Park were already receding. He'd kissed her but his heart didn't race. She had moved against him, had taken off her shirt. He knew, even if he'd only been with one girl before, that she wanted to be with him. Her skin had been flawless and white, she'd looked heavenly in low riders and a lacy bra. And he hadn't been able to feel more than he felt for regular girls. Becky should have been _different. _She deserved to be different. She was owed it after how brave she had been.

And like a coward he'd called it off and went home, leaving her disappointed. She'd asked him about it and he'd said - like some kind of pathetic loser - that he didn't want to rush into things. Even though the law of averages with people his age was more like three weeks than the three months it had become.

She brought him a cup and they chatted on the couch. He thought about escaping as she crept to his side and leaned into him.

He gulped as she nestled in. "I uh wha nuh," he offered, his hand shaking.

"Shh," she said, climbing into his lap. He put down his coffee. Soon she was all he could feel, her soft lips and skin as she caressed him.

_How about some enthusiasm, Dave? The HOTTEST GIRL IN THE WORLD is making out with you, and you don't even want to touch her!_

She pulled away, still smiling, now sympathetic. "Wow. You're really not in the mood, huh?"

He didn't want to glance down, but he knew what wasn't happening down there anyway. "Must be stress. Broke my ankle today. Balthazar and I had a screaming match."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "Well, sleep is good. Why don't you stay here tonight?"

"No I - I get nightmares, I yell-"

"I'll wake you up," she promised, kissing him again. "C'mon. Sleep. Saturday morning tomorrow - I'll make you pancakes."

"O-Okay..."

Her bed was soft. She looked amazing in a tank top and boy shorts, and she held him close. It was nice. He hadn't slept in the same bed as a girl for over a year. He swallowed hard, curling his arm around her. She nestled into his chest.

"I - I'm sorry if I wake you up later," he said into her hair.

"Don't worry, I'm a heavy sleeper."

She leaned up and kissed under his jaw. He wrapped his arms more securely around her. He swallowed hard as she flicked off the light and pulled her quilt over their bodies. In the darkness, Dave was afraid to close his eyes.

~+o+~

Balthazar turned to find his copy of _Leabhar Formoiri, _written by a Fomorian scholar_._ The Elements Symbol on the Merlin's Circle flickered with his green fire. He leaned over the pages, muttering to himself. The Fomorian's of Ireland had had a lot to say on the subject of aural fire. They were an elemental race of people, and Merlin himself had been descended from them. They hadn't put their faith in transformations, time, or matter, but in the energies of fire, water, earth, wind and electricity. They had been particularly interested in the aura, their colors and its meanings. He leaned over its yellowed, crackled pages and tried to make the words make some sort of sense on the page.

"What does it say?" asked a voice from nearby. He glanced over. A floating crystal ball displayed the face of the woman he loved, her long hair cascading over her shoulders.

"Not entirely sure," he replied.

Veronica had agreed to watch his experiment. Their talks were shorter and shorter as days went by. Veronica was visiting a very distant relation, who happened to be one of the worlds remaining Merlinian's and knew about her. She'd dodged Balthazar's questions and got to work on the aura fire and teleported the book to him as soon as she'd found it.

"Ok, I think I got it. Let's see if I can do it," he said.

His Irish was poor, so he had to concentrate on the feel of the words rather than the words themselves. He let out a slow breath as he stepped back onto the circle. He closed his eyes and held his hands before his face. Slowly, like he was trying to pull cloth from his skin, he drew his hands back. Thin, like gossamer, something moved with his fingers. He opened his eyes as his hands twisted. Energy like a veil of sheer fabric shimmered in the air.

"Your aura," said Veronica. "It will be colorless to the un-practiced."

"Can you see it?" he asked.

"Green. Like the leaves on the trees," she said. "Try to see it yourself - focus your life energy into it."

He twisted his hands, breathing himself into his cupped palms and moaned softly as a tingle crept up his back. He smiled as the shimmering fabric turned into the same green as the fire crackling at his feet.

"Amazing," he said.

"Excellent work."

He wrapped his arms around him in a hug, snaring the aura on his fingertips and rubbing it back onto his body.

With another gentle twist and a burst of power green flame formed at his hands. It caressed his skin, moving and rippling. It felt like an old friend. He swirled it and it formed a ball. An embodiment of his soul, his true color. He pressed it against his chest and it burst against him.

He turned back to the book. "This should be you reading it. I always slept when Merlin tried to teach us Irish. You and Horvath were his star pupils then."

"Yes, but I don't know anyone who speaks as fluent Egyptian," she said.

Balthazar knew a lot of languages - he was fluent in many Eastern European languages, French, Spanish, Egyptian (ancient and modern) to name a few. Not to mention many other dead languages. But he'd never learned Irish properly. "I was too busy daydreaming about you to study hard," he said.

He shut the book. Red flame. Red aura. Passion, energy, vitality, sacrifice... his eyes flickered to the centre symbol.

"What is it?" she asked.

Balthazar picked up the crystal ball and took it to the circle with him. It felt too warm against his hands, the transmitting energy buzzed against his fingertips.

The red flame began to prickle around the circle and spark within the dot at its centre. He stepped from his flames and held his hand over it. A tingle of green nestled amongst it, and there was another flash of heat. A sense of urgency.

"Is this what you were saying about Dave?" she asked. "That he'd accessed the circle when he was asleep?"

"Yes, but he's nowhere near here," said Balthazar. He sat down against the couch, holding the crystal in his hands. She looked sad.

"Listen, Balthazar, I should-"

"Please don't go," he interrupted. "I miss you."

"I know," she replied. "Not yet."

"Fine," he said. His throat felt thick. "Have a good time visiting with Nancy."

"I will."

The crystal went dark in his hands. The warmth was already disappearing. He sat there with it until it went cold.

He checked the time - it was nearly morning. He didn't expect Dave until noon again, especially if he'd spent the night with Becky. It was about time he had a woman in his life. While upset about the situation with Veronica, it wasn't like Balthazar wasn't used to the solitary life. Veronica had understood when he explained he'd had lovers in the past, the way he would have understood if she had. But they were far between.

With a flick of his hand the book zoomed into a vanished bookshelf he'd arranged so he could have access to his books, and a way to hide them if Dave's college professor came snooping. He kept most of his books at the refurbished Arcana Cabana. With another flick the crystal ball set itself onto a small pedestal, and the entire set up disappeared.

He picked up his bag and walked over to the stairwell. He looked back. The circle was getting brighter. Troubled, he shut off the lights and left for his apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Lights from unknown sources lit Battery Park, but the rest of New York faded into oblivion. Gasping, weak, staring at the spot where Morgana's face had dissolved into nothingness. He closed his eyes on the scene trying to breathe around the ache in his chest. Streaks of blue and purple and red from where the plasma and the bolts of lightning had burned his retinas seemed to dance in time with his heartbeat. The adrenaline seemed to slow time down. Every part of the fight repeated in his head with agonized detail. The possession, the fire... Balthazar. He knew he was behind him. He turned towards the steps but couldn't open his eyes.

_I can't. I can't look. I know what's there. I can't. Please._

But his eyes did open. It was like a knife twisting in his chest. His logical mind reminded him that Veronica should be there, but nothing makes sense in dreams. Balthazar was alone, lying on his back like he was looking up at the stars. Even from this far away he could feel it, the nothingness coming from his master's body. There was nothing. Nothing.

_Oh God._

He felt so weak. "He's gone," he whispered. "Jesus, he's gone."

_No._

He sat down on the steps grabbing at his clothes, writhing his hands. Tear's stung his eyes, he couldn't breathe. He buried his face in his hands, anything to not see this.

_Not again. Why?_

It was over. No more training, no more purpose. He pulled his hands away and looked down at Balthazar's face. How far beyond the veil could he be? How high could his soul be? Dave was a man of science. Before magic, before Balthazar, he hadn't considered a possibility of life after death. But how couldn't there be something? Balthazar had to have a soul - even if no one else in the world had one, he had to.

He swallowed back a wave of bile, fighting down nausea. He gritted his teeth, groaning, holding his stomach, trying not to scream. He started to shake his head.

"No," he said through his clenched jaw. "No that's not good enough." He stood up, his hands were shaking. "That bitch stopped his heart, but he can come back."

_Where's Veronica? This isn't how it happened!_

"I don't know if this will work, but maybe I can start it again." _It did work. He will come back. _"I have to try."

He felt the magic burst from him. Deep red, blood red, the circle flared around them. Pain started twisting from his chest, the burning fire, leapt to life inside of him. He knew he was dreaming but he savoured the pain, its flavour, each delicious tendril which crawled and writhed under his skin turning his blood into acid. His heart cried out at the heat, his eyes pricked with tears and he turned his face to the sky, arms out like a praying man.

_By the grace of the powers that be, please let me save him._

Electricity crackled at his fingers, at his palms. Power surged through him. He could do anything. He lifted his arms over his head and fell to his knees, forcing the energy down. The air was like a thick membrane, stretching like he was shoving his hands through honey.

He gasped as his hands contacted with Balthazar's chest. There was a _whump_ as the energy dispersed into his body and his heart gave a feeble thump and quit.

"Damnit! Wake up!" he yelled again, releasing the energy again. Tears started to prickle in his eyes as the pain under his skin started to scorch him. He gritted his teeth, trying not to scream at the next feeble thump.

"Listen, I'll do anything you say," _whump, _"anything you want," _whump, _"if you just wake up!"

He screamed again, his throat felt raw, as he stared at the dead body. Nothing was working. He knew it should, but he couldn't make it work. Over and over he slammed his electricity into his chest, shouting obscenities and pleading with him.

He curled over his body, sobbing. The fire hissed in his chest.

"Why can't I do it on my own?"

_Accept me. _The voice was like Balthazar's, with a hidden edge to it that made it alien. _If you don't you'll burn alive._

He let the fire consume him. At first it began to lick up his arms in sweet, burning tongues until it covered his body. He opened his eyes and looked over his body and let out a short sigh. His eyes rolled up into his head and he arched back as the energy in his body began to vibrate, pulling him to another plane. He could have laughed from the tingles at the sensation.

He looked back down at Balthazar's body. He felt the mass of fire at his hands turning into churning fireballs.

"Please, wake up," he begged. His arms curved up into the air, leaving graceful streaks of fire in their wake and pushed down to his chest. The fire burst against Balthazar's chest, he moaned at the release, and at the small, soft beats from below him.

The fire disappeared, slowly dispersing into tiny flickers over his body, and then back inside of him. The heat eased, the acid was gone.

Balthazar's face twitched and his eyes opened. "Dave," he whispered.

Dave grinned down at him, wiping tears off his face with his sleeve.

Balthazar smiled back, reaching one hand up. Dave shuddered, the feeling of his gentle fingers tracing along his jaw line and down his neck sending shivers and a different kind of heat pulsing through his body. The fire seemed to purr inside of him as he clasped his hand and moaned.

His eyes were open before the end of the dream. Dave lay on sweat soaked sheets, gasping for breath, his heart thudding against his ribcage like he'd just finished running a marathon. He blinked, the ceiling coming into focus. An unfamiliar ceiling, clean, white, with a fan. He looked around trying to make sense of all the strange shapes. It hit him when he saw the beautiful girl kneeling on the bed, her flyaway hair, and wide terrified eyes.

"Becky," he said, sitting up too fast. He blinked at the head rush, the world swimming. He clapped one hand over the side of his head as he tried to get up.

She slipped off the edge of the bed and backed up to the wall, still scared. He pulled his hand away from his eye.

"What happened to your eye?" he asked, swallowing hard. He had a feeling he knew.

"I dunno," she said, reaching up and wincing. The area around her eye was already swelling and turning a dark, purple shade. A streak of red slipped down like a tear towards her nose across her cheek bone. It was a miracle she could open her eye. "You were screaming," tears started to well up in her eyes, "screaming over and over.Screaming for someone to wake up."

He could remember, too. Too vivid colors, the red. He put a hand over his chest and the fire burned in there, a slow, dark reminder. He looked away at the covers.

"You woke me up because you were thrashing. I tried to wake you up - I mean, my brother used to get night terrors where he'd stand in the middle of his bedroom and yell. But he could always come back. Dave, you... you wouldn't wake up no matter what I did. And when I, I slapped you," she swallowed, "it was like a big ball of _something_ just hit me out of nowhere, knocked me off the bed."

"Oh God," he moaned, covering his face. "Becky _I'm so sorry!_ I didn't mean to attack you, it was subconscious! I couldn't help it!"

He sat in the sheets, shaking, feeling tears coming on. That was the last thing he wanted - to cry like some stupid, pathetic loser. But he'd _hurt_ her.

"You sounded like someone... died."

"I always dream that. I'm sorry."

"Balthazar?" she asked, stepping forward like a person trying not to provoke an attack.

He nodded.

"You... you said his name a few times."

He looked up. A faint blush had crept up her neck. He swallowed convulsively. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded in her lap. If it hadn't been for the black eye, Dave would have said she looked like some living embodiment of a goddess. She was underdressed, wanted him, and was so beautiful and generous and sweet and he just kept pushing her away. Hurting her. He felt like throwing up.

"Why did you say his name so much?"

He looked up. This new tone was almost accusing. "You weren't there in Battery Park when he died. I resuscitated him there. I dream about that all the time. It was... a hard time."

She shifted so she could face him easier. "But at the end it... didn't just sound like you were relieved he lived."

Dave hated himself for the flush these words and the too-bright memory caused. It had just been a gentle caress on his jaw, but it had -

He swallowed. "No, just relief. Please don't insinuate that. I like girls. I like _you._"

She nodded and smiled, but it was weak. "I like you too, Dave." She touched the bruise again and winced.

He got out of bed. The quick motion made her stand up, still ready to bolt. He held out his hands, trying to look reassuring. "Just relax. I'm going to fix the bruise."

She nodded. He fished in his pants and pulled out his ring. He slipped it over his finger and felt a tingle of energy spread through his skin. He walked around the bed to her where she was looking into the mirror. He stood behind her, and the contrast was painful. A golden haired beauty queen, and a dorky physics nerd that was head of the chess team in high school and played DnD with Emmet and a few of the guys from the biochem class. And was, ironically enough, a human sorcerer. The thought threatened to pull the corner of his mouth into a smirk, but Becky was staring at him and he dropped his gaze. He lifted his hand and cupped his palm over her eye.

"You're lucky, healing bruises doesn't hurt," he said.

"Do other things hurt?"

"I broke my ankle. When the bone snapped back into place it hurt worse than when I did break it."

There was a flicker of white light from his palm. His ring glowed green as lick's of gentle white fire started to caress her face.

"What about diseases or other really bad injuries?" she asked.

Dave watched as the swelling started to recede. "Well, diseases can only be transferred. And other bad injuries... some of those hurt the person healing you more than you were hurt."

"Like the disease?"

"No," he shook his head. "Like... if your soul is damaged. In order for someone to help you they have to give up a piece of their soul - what makes them, _them."_

She turned and looked up at him. Her eyes were wary. "Did you give up a piece of your soul to save Balthazar?"

_A good question._ _And one I think I might have to dodge._ "No. I don't think so. He never said anything about it anyway. And I think I'd notice if he started hitting on you and getting into my Tesla coils, started playing DnD and video games and drinking way too much coffee than was good for him."

She looked away. "Thank you for healing me."

"You're welcome." His hands were on her shoulders. Her arms were crossed against her chest and she was staring at the ground. He pulled his hands away and let them drop.

"Listen, Becky, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Stop, Dave," she said, turning towards him. "I need to work... everything through. I never thought I'd have to be scared of you."

It felt like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, trying to control his breathing. It wouldn't do to have a panic attack.

"I suppose it's best if I just go."

"Maybe," she said.

He gathered up his clothes and got dressed in the hallway, leaving her alone in her room. He winced at the time on the clock in the kitchen - no person should be awake at that hour - and headed for the door. "I'll - text you later," he called into the apartment.

He didn't get a reply, and let himself out.

Of his two days off, Balthazar liked Saturdays the best. He woke up in his room at around ten and stretched out like a cat in the sheets. One thing he didn't miss about the old days were the mattresses. It certainly was a very well thought out invention of the age of steel. One of the best. Keep the iPod's, keep the computers, cell phones, and those digital watches. A nice, thick mattress was where it was at.

He slipped out of his bed and scratched his head. The room was messy. He normally kept the place a little tidier, but he stopped caring about a month ago. He picked out a clean pair of dress pants and his favourite burgundy shirt. Another of the many things the age of steel brought were _ridiculous clothes._ Not that they looked stupid, but they just weren't classy the way things were back in the Victorian Era. Something about those styles were very comely, in his opinion.

He made his way into his kitchen. Not so dirty in here. He checked the tin where he kept his loose tea leaves and frowned. He swore he remembered to refill it, but it was bare apart from a few scraps.

Scratching his stomach he glanced at the clock and decided deep-fried things were in order. And tea. A very good thing about North America he hadn't gotten over yet - the plentiful, wonderful junk food. He'd eaten all around the world, loved all manners of cuisine, but nothing beat a nice donut. Dipped in tea. He smacked his lips. Time for a trip to Loco Cocoa.

He hit the street in his 'Rock Star Wizard Attire' as Dave put it. The day was chilly and the sky a steel grey. He looked up and sniffed. It would snow soon.

Balthazar checked his watch. He decided to hop on the bus to the East Village. From there he could hop another bus to Chelsea and walk the rest of the way to Dave's place snuggled in the neighbourhoods leading into Hell's Kitchen. Despite the gentrification in the early 1990's there were still a few buildings, like Dave's, that resembled their humble beginnings.

Loco Cocoa was snuggled in next to a textile shop and a comic book store. A generic sort of sorcerer stood casting over a crystal ball filled with the faces of wary heroes. Balthazar rolled his eyes as he entered the coffee shop.

The atmosphere was ripe with the delicious scent of baking goods. Almost every kind of donut imaginable was made here and the tea - ah! - to die for. It was the only place in the city with the exception of a small organic place near where he leaved that imported just the right tea leaves. The plump Jamaican woman who ran the place saw him and waved. "Ahhhh Balthazar the Second! How is your father?"

"He's good, happy to be back in the old country," Balthazar lied. After a ten year absence he'd expected Mama Lucia to have forgotten him completely, but she recognized him on the spot. Quick with a lie at hand, he'd explained the other was his father and she believed his story about them moving to Montreal with little suspicion. Now his 'father' was visiting England again. "And may I be so bold as to say you are as radiant as the first time I laid eyes on you?"

"Oh you hush now," she blushed. "You certainly know how to sweet talk an old woman."

"Old? Time waits for you, Lucia, standing as still as it did years ago when I first laid eyes upon you."

She shook her head, still smiling. "The usual then, sweetie?" she asked, picking up a flat paper box and unfolding it.

He nodded and tried not to drool as she loaded the bag with his favourites and gave him an extra large cup of tea in a to-go cup. "And a Caramel Macchiato for my young apprentice."

"How is that Dave kid - your nephew?" she asked. She'd never fully believed that the two of them could be related, but she still asked.

"Good. I'm about to go wake him up," he said cheerfully. "Have a good day, Mama Lucia."

"Same to you, Balthazar the Second."

He turned and paused when he saw the New York Times lying on the counter. It wasn't the headline that caught his eye, but a slightly exposed page several deep. He flicked it open to the article. He leaned over, clutching his box of pastries and his two drinks. The headline read "_**The Sleeping Dead?"**_

He stood up and held up the paper with a few dollar bills in his hand. "May I?"

Lucia pocketed the money. "You go on ahead."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry this took so long. _ Next one will be quicker, I promise! Also, if you're liking the story, please review. Reviews are love!

`~+0+~`

Fifteen minutes after leaving Loco Cocoa he was walking up the stairs to Dave's apartment. The quick commute was thanks to a well placed teleportation spell in a dark alley. He hated to cheat with magic, but he didn't want the coffee to get cold.

The building was a reclaimed hotel full of dodgy types, by Balthazar's guess. He supposed it was what a starving student going through his third year in University could pay for. The wall was a dirty white and the wooden floor was chipped and in need of refinishing. As he reached the third landing there was a burst of angry Spanish and the sound of a door snapping open below him. "Stutler, I want rent!" she yelled.

Balthazar turned to face her. She looked something like a hyperventilating tiger. The woman was Mexican or Cuban and in her mid-thirties, probably pretty at one time, but a few children and hard living coupled with a crippling personality disorder seemed to have beaten her down. She had too many lines and her eyes were exhausted and mean.

"Beg pardon?" he asked.

_"Mierda._ Listen, tell Stutler his rent is overdue and I can't wait anymore! And tell him that if him and his _mamon_ don't stop fighting at all hours of the night he'll be on his ass come Monday."

Balthazar raised his eyebrows. What a charming land lady. "And who is his, erm..."

"His boyfriend, his fag, _whatever._ Some idiot, I don't care about his name. I can always hear Dave screaming at him for whatever reason. It's getting on the other tenants nerves. _Joder!"_

"Sure it's not your charming personality?" Balthazar asked as he turned away and started walking back up the stairs.

_"Anda que te coja un burro!"_ she yelled at him, slamming her door behind her.

With a flick of his hand Balthazar unlocked Dave's door and stepped inside. He was struck by how much cleaner it was immediately. Not that it was spring fresh, but something seemed to be missing. Tank waddled up and drooled on his shoes. He scratched the dog behind the ears and went into the kitchen. Someone had attempted to clean. There was a few less pizza boxes and containers Chinese takeout, and the dishes were even clean. Surely not his roommates doing.

He set down the cups and the box of donuts and stuffed his second into his mouth after setting his jacket and hat by the door. His eyes rolled back. There was nothing quite like a chunky peanut butter donut loaded with blackberry jelly. Chewing, he made his way into the 'living room', which was a small corner donated to video games. Dave was passed out on the dilapidated couch, his ring glowing in the dark. A flicker of flame, thin and almost invisible like the purest gas fire, flicked up and down his exposed skin. His aura shimmered in the air.

Balthazar used his energy to feel about the apartment as he finished his donut. No - what was his roommates name? - Bennet. He checked the extra bedroom. It was empty. Tank moped on the foot of the couch, idly licking the pages of a forgotten advanced theoretical physics textbook, watching him as he investigated.

After he was sure that Bennet had really moved out - no great loss, the man's mouth had moved about three miles a minute, much of it about women and wolves - he took the macchiato from the kitchen and walked back to Dave. The second he stepped towards his aura it moved like a rippling sheet. Two tendril's of magic studied him and moved away, letting him approach.

He crouched down in front of his apprentice and wafted the coffee back and forth under Dave's nose. He snickered. He wasn't graceful when he was sleeping. His jaw was slack and open, and he was drooling on the pillow. Charming. But Balthazar had the feeling this was a restful sleep for him, for once. No screams.

After a moment of this Dave started sniffing hopefully, drawing out of sleep one baby step at a time. Eyes still shut he raised his head off the cushion, sniffing like some cartoon hound dog.

"I smell coffee and caramel," he said, eyes still closed.

Balthazar smiled as Dave groped about, eyes shut, in the air for the cup. He gave it to him and threw himself onto the only other piece of furniture - a computer chair. With a wave of his hand the box of donuts lifted up and floated towards the couch to settle down on some notes. Another peanut and jelly donut lifted out of its box and found its way to Balthazar's hand, his cup of tea grooving his way towards him from the kitchen.

Dave sat up, rubbing his eyes. "You're the best master ever," he said, grabbing a donut and sitting cross-legged on the couch.

"So I'm told," said Balthazar. His paper came fluttering in.

Dave watched it with too red eyes. "Why am I not allowed to do that?"

Balthazar started to read the paper, listening to his apprentice go about his morning ritual. Dave thumped about the apartment getting dressed and tidying his notes which were scattered around the living room. After discovering his saliva coated textbook and putting the dog out on the balcony he sat back down on the couch, nursing his coffee and blinking owlishly.

"Whatcha reading?" Dave asked around his second donut.

"Could be nothing. A lot of people have been slipping into coma's lately. The ages, sexes and races are random, and all of them are healthy people. Sometimes as a sorcerer you have to watch out for strange things like this, for the good of the people."

"So... it could be a wizard?"

"Most likely a complete coincidence." He lowered the paper. "I noticed you were sleeping well. Did the spell work?"

"Oh, I uh... was dreaming. I was just at the end of it." Dave turned so red it looked painful.

"Could this be why your landlady told me to go get molested by an equine?"

"Is that what she always says?" Dave scratched his head. "What did she want?"

"Rent," he replied, turning the page. "How was your date with Becky?"

"An unmitigated disaster, I don't want to talk about it." Dave bit his donut and took a swallow of coffee. "She tried to wake me up last night and I attacked her in my sleep."

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it," from behind the paper.

"I don't. I just don't know what's wrong with me. My life sucks. I got _home_ at five in the morning, never mind when I left her apartment. S'why I was studying, until I fell asleep again."

Balthazar shut the paper. "Dave, the dreaming comes with the magic. Your mind is expanded now - you can see, feel and experience more in a dream than anyone else. It will be like you're really living the memory again, over and over again, until you figure out _why_ you're doing it. Don't you have any idea yet?"

Dave turned magenta and took a sip of coffee. "No idea. It's just the same shit over and over. I don't want to go there right now."

Balthazar shrugged. "Suit yourself. How much is rent for a little place like this anyway?"

"Six hundred a month, utilities and my Internet bills. Why?" asked Dave, watching Balthazar slip on his coat and hat.

"No reason, just curious. I'll be waiting outside."

Balthazar left Dave alone and looking for his shoes. He slipped a check book out from an inside pocket and an inkwell pen. In a moment he finished writing the check and walked back down the creaky, dilapidated wooden steps and knocked on the door to room 212.

There were thumps and an angry voice yelling at protesting children around the sounds of a Spanish game show. Balthazar rocked on his heels as the woman's yelling got louder as she drew to the door. There was a snapped order and a cat hissed. The blue painted door swung open and a heavy striped grey tabby went flying from the door.

He was regarded by Dave's landlady with an expression of utmost contempt. _"What?"_ she snarled.

"I have David Stutler's rent check, ma'am," said Balthazar. He held out the check.

The woman chewed her cheek a moment and snatched it up. She inspected it. "Balthazar Blake? What the hell kinda name is that? Are you his _novio?"_

Balthazar smiled. "No, his uncle actually. I'm not aware of anyone in David's life other than his girlfriend."

The woman harrumphed. "And this is good? Won't bounce?"

"Guaranteed," he said. "And if it does I'm sure Dave will scratch up his rent."

"Right. Whatever. Get outta my face, _pito._"

She slammed the door. Balthazar turned to look at the cat, who was grooming itself on the walkway. He heard a door shut above him as he knelt down and held his hand out to the cat. Dave thumped down the stairs and stopped when he saw Balthazar stroking it behind the ears.

"What a delightful woman," he said to the cat, "do they pay her to be so charming?"

The cat responded with an old refrigerator purr and pressed up into his palm.

"What are you doing with my landlady's cat?" he asked, then glanced at the door. "What are you doing at my landlady's apartment?"

"I simply stopped here," said Balthazar, standing up and brushing off his pants. "Don't be so paranoid. Shall we?"

He turned, sipping his tea. He smiled when he heard Dave sputter.

_"Did you pay my rent for me?"_

Balthazar glanced over his shoulder at him. "Consider it a loan. Come on, we've got a lot to do today."

Dave pulled on some old clothing he had stashed in the locker room of his laboratory. He wasn't willing to have more clothes charred, so he'd picked up a bundle from a second hand store when practice had moved from simple, silly levitation and conjuring plasma bolts to actual combat training.

Balthazar had proved that he was far more skilled than he let on. He'd travelled the world, spent considerable time doing hand-to-hand combat training, as well as magic training with other Merlinians, Morganians, and others from the neutral aspect of the magical world. In all the combat with Horvath Dave had never seen the physical aspect of the fights, but Balthazar impressed upon him that the martial arts were important. Horvath was very skilled, as was Balthazar, so they'd matched each other spell for spell. Drake had been inexperienced and under skilled, and the fight with Sun Lok hadn't gotten far enough to show all of his fighting abilities. According to Balthazar, along with summoning Sun Lok was a master kung fu artist.

"Not everyone simply slings spells at each other - sometimes they'll be in groups," Balthazar had explained when they'd begun the new combat styles. "A familiar with a sorcerer, for example. While you prepare spells you're vulnerable - your mind is blank, you're focusing, and might not see a direct attack. That was what Veronica was for me. She was the most skilled person in Britain with a sword, and preferred using magic to bolster that ability while I casted the heavier spells. It all depends on what people are comfortable with. The more ability you have, the more you can rely solely on your skills and not on others. That's how I've gotten - I can work without a partner if I have to, but it's gained me some scars."

Dave had seen them once. When training had gotten intense once Balthazar had gone for a shower. In the locker room Dave noticed a few heavy, angry scars running down his side and crossing from his shoulder under his arm in an angled cross. On the other hip he noticed three disappearing down into his hemline. There were others, but these were the angriest. They were made by a _bagh nakh,_ he'd said.

Dave walked into the lab and trotted down the stairs. The Merlin's Circle was already crackling merrily, and all of Dave's equipment was missing. In fact, the space had changed into a stone sort of castle foyer. He was used to this. During heavy combat training Balthazar managed to make a sort of slip-space area, hiding his things inside so they wouldn't become damaged and manipulating the area he created obstacles of pillars and stairs, leaving only a few reminders that the place had ever housed Dave's things - like the stairs to the locker room.

Balthazar had cast off his jacket and was stretching. Dave couldn't help but remember what he looked like without his shirt and a hot blush crept up his neck. He shook his head hard, trying to shake the image from his head. _Why the hell am I blushing like some idiot school girl with a crush?_

"Ready, Dave?" asked Balthazar.

Dave nodded and swallowed hard. "Yeah."

"Alright. Remember, I'm going to fight dirty. There are sorcerers in China that like to use an angle we usually refer to as _psionic. _Mind tactics. Prepare yourself."

Dave slipped on the ring and clenched his hands. He felt the muscles pushed around the scaled silver, felt it press back in to him, reinforcing a feeling of power coursing up and down through his arm. He felt a jet of power flash through him, spreading out around his feet in a whorl of fire. He gritted his teeth, flexed the air around him, and waited.

Balthazar snickered. In a blur of movement Balthazar had leapt, manipulating his energy and twisting him gracefully into the air. Dave anticipated where he was going to land and shot a blast of energy towards of him.

Balthazar deflected it casually and appeared next to him. _"Try harder."_

Dave swung around, plasma crackled in his palm. He launched it at him and missed, leaving a scorched mark on the stone. Balthazar chuckled. Dave blocked the punch that was aimed at his head with his own arm. On the second shot he leaned into a lunge and deflected it with the same arm, swinging his right towards Balthazar's unprotected midriff, charging it with a burst of solidified air.

Balthazar deflected it with his arm and sidestepped onto the _Mind_ symbol of the circle. The green flames shuddered and sparked and Dave reeled back when a wall of _black_ hit him. His vision was gone, he had only his breath tight in his chest.

The world reappeared, but it was wrong. At his feet was the ceiling, and above his head was the floor. He spun and hit the brick and rolled. He sat up, baring his teeth. "Damn."

"Don't get so complacent! This isn't just sparring, I'm attacking your _mind!_ Now, GET READY!"

Dave was barely on his feet when Balthazar appeared on his side and swung in close. He had just a moment to harden the air around his arm and deflect a kick when another wall of black hit him and he felt himself rolling again.

"Alright, on your feet. Again."

Dave stood up. He liked the science of magic, the feeling of unity with the universe, with every molecule. He didn't like the combat - the way Balthazar acted it was as if all the Morganian's in the world were going to spring up and kill him. He let out a shuddering breath. He knew it was necessary - Horvath was out there, and countless others, who were itching for revenge.

He pulled in energy tight to his body, visualized a shield around him, protecting his mind. He raised his arms and crouched, ready, watching.

Balthazar smirked. "Now, show me you're capable of more than this silly school yard fighting."

Dave charged energy down his legs and sprung. Electricity crackled at his fists as he swung. Balthazar parried neatly as Dave attacked. He threw out suggestions, deflecting and dodging all of his attacks. They blurred into a sort of dance that he was used to, parrying and attacking.

As he was anticipating the next move there was a dark glow around the edges of his eyes as a vision started to snake over him.

He tried not to squeeze his eyes shut as he forced a mental barrier up, leaving his left flank exposed. Balthazar's knee hit him in the side and he crumpled, hitting the ground.

"Don't let your guard down!" Balthazar snapped. "No one will allow you a moment of rest, no one will just let you get back up! They will attack you when you are on your knees!"

A heavy blast of air lashed up from the ground into his gut, knocking Dave onto his back, gasping.

"Time out!" he yelled, coughing.

"No time!" A blast of air behind his back forced him into a standing position. Hands on his stomach, Dave glared over at Balthazar.

"Again!"

Dave defended against a plasma bolt with his shield and sent his own towards his master. Balthazar shrugged out of the way.

"Childs play. You're vulnerable."

A fireball flew towards him. Dave caught it, feeling the vacuum between his palms stretch and suck away the fire. Using its energy Dave sent a gout of flame back. It hit the stones behind where Balthazar had stood. He perceived him on his right and turned, unconsciously deflecting a plasma bolt with one of his own.

"You're not guarding your mind. Let's see," said Balthazar, ducking a punch, "what hurts you?"

The room disappeared and first he saw Battery Park. Morgana.

Balthazar grunted. Dave's eyes refocused on him, rolling away on the ground. He was on his feet right away, but Dave saw the smoking, charred section of clothing. He'd scored a hit.

"Don't show me that!"

"I didn't show you anything - your mind is what's providing ammunition. I simply told it to find a painful memory." Balthazar stood. "Protect your mind!"

Dave deflected the next two attacks, but Balthazar came in close and hit him hard with another ball of hardened air, knocking the wind out of him. Battery Park came back. Plasma bolts rent the air, which turned hot. Dave felt the familiar scream well up when one struck his master in the chest, sending him flying down the steps and onto the pavement. The vision faded again when Dave forced his shield up. He felt tears in his eyes.

"Damnit, _stop!"_

"No. You're vulnerable, you're weak. People will prey on you, using your tragedies against you in order to cripple you and force you into submission. Now, defend yourself!"

Dave lunged this time, pivoting and dodging hot blasts of fire and plasma, closing in on the green blur before him. He swung under Balthazar's arm, feeling something hot in his chest. That sweet, delicious pain.

Balthazar took a heavy hit to his stomach but his hand, bare of all rings but his own, hit home on David's chin. Dave's head snapped back, Balthazar felt the shield weaken, and knew this would be the last hit he'd need to win the fight.

He opened his palm and let the energy manipulate Dave's brain chemistry, feeding the pathways and taking him to his darkest place. He didn't know what it was, he didn't risk opening himself to watch it, but he could force it upon him.

Dave crumpled back, a small, weak cry was the only sound he made. Tears welled at his eyes as he hit the ground, knees first. He grasped at his head, panting.

Balthazar stood back, feeling energy roil in his hand. He couldn't take the final shot. Mercy, and some piece that hated hurting him over and over for the sake of training, stayed him.

A subtle change rippled his body, a twist of energy. Dave bared his teeth. Red fire flickered, and started to lick its way up his bare arms. He was clenching his fists, veins stood out against his arms. Fascinated, Balthazar watched as the flames started to consume him, burning at the centre of his chest.

"Dave?" Balthazar asked.

Dave's head snapped up, but there was no recognition behind his eyes. He was seeing Morgana, had felt the snap of life leave Balthazar's body behind him. He was in Battery Park, and his adversary was before him.

An inarticulate sound of rage tore out of him as he stood. Fire burned in his eyes, massed at his hands. Balthazar had only a second to block before he was consumed in the burning fire.

_What have I done?_

He slipped out of the gout of flame and ran to the side, trying to focus on a calming spell. But Dave's mental shields were up now - he deflected the spell like one flicks away a fly. The pure might of the Prime Merlinian was with him in the room. Pure power without a master. Fire snapped up in the circle of space, leaving Balthazar no way of escape.

The dance turned deadly as Balthazar fought for his life against his apprentice. He realized now just what the Prime Merlinian was. _Merlin, master, had you been this strong? _

He deflected a massive plasma ball. It hit one of the columns he'd conjured. It cracked, stone fragments flew, and as he was barraged relentlessly by his apprentice, deflecting and absorbing what he could, he could feel small shards rain on his back. He glanced out of reflex as the pillar crumbled at the centre. His heart jolted. _Merlin save us._

He lifted his arms, steeling the air above him, enveloping the stone in water to make it move slower, but a tiny voice in the back of his mind wondered, _will it hurt very much?_

"DAVID!" he yelled. "DAVID COME BACK!"

The pillar oozed down. He didn't have enough energy to transport, to break the pillar, to throw it. He was nearly spent. Any second now the water would dissipate, and he would be crushed.

Dave was a mass of red fire, unyielding.

_"DAVE PLEASE! COME BACK!"_

The spark of doubt rippled through the thing his apprentice had become and the fire started to disappear. His skin still glowed, but the fire was inside rather than out. He blinked, it disappeared from his eyes, and he focused.

Balthazar shuddered. The elemental time warp collapsed. The pillar started to fall.

Dave gasped.

_"BALTHAZAR!"_

He raised his hands. The crimson fire flared and curled around the pillar. Dave's hands were over his head, like he was holding it. He twisted, throwing it. The pillar exploded in a wave of dust and shards of granite. Dave twisted and a wall of air stopped them from being consumed.

Balthazar stumbled and fell. He took stock of himself, saw his burned clothes hanging in tatters, and shuddered.

"Disperse!" Dave yelled, sweeping his arms. The laboratory reappeared. The Merlin's Circle flared in bright red as Dave ran forward.

The fire sucked back inside of himself as he closed the distance. He caught Balthazar as he swooned, about to hit the ground. Dave rolled him over and onto his back.

"Balthazar, I'm so sorry!" he gasped.

Balthazar shook his head. "My fault. I didn't realize what would happen if I pushed you that hard."

"Neither did I. I just remember seeing Morgana and I went ballistic."

Balthazar nodded. His eyes were closed. "I'm sorry."

Dave sat back in shock. He couldn't remember the last time Balthazar had apologized and meant it.

"Let's say we call it a day. You win."

Dave would have laughed, but he couldn't find it in him to. He just bowed his head, closed his eyes, and saw his master in Battery Park. His mouth felt dry, he felt sick, and wanted to go to sleep but for the nightmares.


End file.
